Manesa

Chapter 6: Soran & Manesa

                                                                           Soran

"Why were you at the house then?" she asked me softly.

I was a little confused for a moment before I realised what she was asking. She wanted to know why I was there when her mother had died. I wasn't sure how much to tell her at this moment because she was still in a fragile state and I was too scared to tell her everything and find out that she'd disappeared. But, I knew I needed to be honest with her.

I paused for a moment and my hesitation must have been apparent because she suddenly looked away and started to walk towards the house again. I rushed towards her and gently touched her arms to get her attention.

"Manesa-" I started gently. "- as I mentioned briefly back in the room, your mother and mine were very good friends. In fact they were the best of friends. Our fathers too, actually-" she suddenly turned to look at me and a gasp escaped her lips. She looked really surprised.

I pressed on. "Our parents were very close from their school days. It started with your mother and mine being like sisters and then when they met their high school sweethearts, they in turn became each other's best friends too." It felt strange to retell this warm part of the story to Manesa out here, so I gestured for us to walk on as I talked. "As they became older and had their children- us- our mothers had this strong desire and hope that we could in turn be close too. When I was born, they had hoped that if you were a boy, we could be like brothers and...." I found it difficult to continue but the look on Manesa's face as she listened intently and calmly gave me a little hope that she wouldn't spiral into shock when she found out.

"...well and if you were a girl, they hoped that we would be closer than that." I could see her considering this calmly but I noticed that her breaths were coming out shorter like little gasps. "But, your parents tried to have a child around the same time mine did but for a few years there wasn't any result. After what seemed like a long time of praying and tears, your mother shared the news with my parents that she was with child." I looked sideways at her and I could see a teary smile across her face and I smiled too, suddenly thankful to her parents for not giving up on bringing her into this world. To me.

I continued to retell the story of how my parents threw a huge party to celebrate the birth of Manesa. And how the mothers had gone wild to decorate her nursery and sew all the cutest tiny booties and baby clothes. It was really a festive time for them and I wanted Manesa to know that she was a sunlight to both families. A ray of hope and light. If there was even a tiny speck of doubt about this, I hoped that by telling her the story surrounding her birth, the doubt would be gone.

As we turned towards the house, I noted that I had not yet told her about our betrothal or the legends of our people. I hadn't told her about the mystery surrounding our parents' deaths or the potential danger we were in. I made a silent prayer to heaven and wished she was told about me and our people while her parents were alive. It was a lot of burden now and I was too scared of the outcome. Perhaps, I would have to tell her slowly over time, I thought to myself.

                                                                                     Manesa

We got back to the house and I was feeling a little lighter after walking and listening to Soran tell me about our parents. I had no recollection of him through my childhood or latter years so I was shocked that our parents had been that close. I wasn't sure why whenever I tried to remember the earlier parts of my life and being with my father, everything was completely black and my head hurt so much. Subconsciously, I think I remembered my father but only as a feeling and not as something concrete. I'd look at photos of him that Mama left around our home and I could not recognise him but I knew that he was my father. I could remember his smell and the sound of his laugh but these memories were like ghosts or wisps of smoke that I could not grab onto.